“Oh shit,” Sin murmurs, as if he can sense the direction this is going. “Don’t provoke him, Gidge.”
“No,” I repeat, my soul lit up with conviction. Like father, like daughter. I know what I’m doing here. I fucking know it. I was born and raised in this shit. Born in ruin. Dressed in sin. How dare these men try to get in my way?! “We are going to town, to that goddamn police station, and we’re going to save Cat’s ass whether he likes it or not.”
“When I get home later tonight, God help you. You best hope that Beast doesn’t die tonight because he’s the only thing that’s going to come between me and spanking that bratty little ass of yours.” Crown looks up at Sin and gestures with his chin. “Get her out of my way and take her home.”
“If you do this to me,” I breathe, squeezing the handlebars even tighter. “Then I will leave you, Crown. I meant it when I said it. I won’t stay here with you. I cannot be with someone who tries to control me.” I pause and then, even though I don’t intend it, my voice comes out this husky, breathy bedroom purr. “Outside of the bedroom anyway.”
“Fuck my life,” Grainger growls out, raking his fingers through his hair. “This isn’t a game, Gidge. Believe it or not, sweetheart, we might know better than you on some things.”
I look over at Sin, even though I know for a fact that, as nice as he can be sometimes, he is not my ally. Actually, among the four men, he’s probably the most likely to lock me in a tower. We stare at each other, and I think about that moment in the basement when he tied me up with his belt and then fucked me. If it’s his baby, then that’d be when I got pregnant. Can you even imagine? I snort and shake my head, even though it’s out of context.
“I have waited for this moment for years.” I keep my gaze focused on Sin’s silver one, his eyes reminiscent of the moon when it isn’t tainted by smoke. It is tonight, as strange and orange-yellow as it was the other day. It doesn’t even look real right now, like the four of us are standing in a movie set with a fat, pregnant butter moon watching over us. “You weren’t there in that pantry when Queenie died. You didn’t watch your pregnant sister get shot in the face. You didn’t see blood leak underneath the door while you hunkered inside like a fucking coward.” I slam my hands against the bars and stand up straight. “I would give my life to kill these men; it’s worth it to me.”
“Well, it isn’t worth it to me,” Crown grinds out, clearly frustrated with me. But I’ve backed him into a corner; I know I have.
“Take me home then,” I tell Sin, letting my gaze swing to Grainger before I look back at the road captain. “I won’t hold this against you since you have no choice but to follow orders. But Crown? Maybe I don’t want the farmhouse or the ring.”
“Goddamn it, Gidget!” he shouts, shoving up to his feet and coming around the front of the bike to snatch me by the shoulders. “Why are you doing this to me? When is enough, enough?”
“Let’s take her,” Grainger says, surprising the shit out of me. He’s staring down the dark country road and not at me and Crown. “If this is what she wants, let her have it.” Cade licks the edge of his mouth. “It’s our job to keep her safe. So let’s do that then.” He moves away from the rest of us as I stand there, openmouthed. Grainger pauses once to look back at me, his expression dark as fuck. Of all of them, I didn’t expect him to be the one to take a stand for me. “What? Are you surprised? I told you what it was that I liked about you.” He shakes his head with an awful laugh. It’s thick and shadowed and full of unspoken things. “Much as I’d prefer to tie you to my bed and deal with things on my own, I understand.” He looks me dead in the face, and I realize that I don’t know a goddamn thing about him other than how he takes his coffee, keeps his bedroom, or how he fucks.
That’s it.
“This is not deferring to our authority in the field,” Sin warns me, his voice that sharp, authoritative thing that it becomes when he’s really and truly angry. Righteously angry. “What is it that you like about us? Because it isn’t all of that prim and proper that your buddy Grey possesses. Don’t neuter us, Gidge.”
“Don’t neuter me,” I retort back, shoving my helmet back on my head. “If any one of you wanted a pretty, little club wife, you’d have picked a brainless groupie like Amber Clearwater and treated her like a kept pet. That isn’t me, and you all know it.”
